


Runaways

by KiKi_the_Creator



Series: Chasing Forever [1]
Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiKi_the_Creator/pseuds/KiKi_the_Creator
Summary: It actually happened. The crazy, never-in-a-million-years fantasy Lottie’s had for the past three years has come true. But it can’t be for real, can it? She’s just going to wake up, like she always does? Or it’s going to be some sick joke, because why does she deserve the happily ever after she’s longed for since her time on Love Island? Easy, she doesn’t. She didn’t handle anything properly in the Villa or in the time that’s passed since. Yet, the girl that’s standing by her side, surrounded by a mess that Lottie’s thrown her in, doesn’t seem to agree.
Relationships: Lottie/Main Character (Love Island)
Series: Chasing Forever [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937290
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	1. Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> Super sappy, but I'm trying something new!
> 
> We'll see how it goes

She’s bouncing on the heels of her little slip-ons as we make our way through security, her grin never leaving her face, and widening whenever our eyes meet. 

We left the hotel less than an hour ago, my confession in the lift only another fifteen minutes before that.

I’ve spent three years longing to see her smile the way I am now, to hear her voice the way I did in that lift, to feel her hand in mine the way I did in that cab.

I’ve spent three years longing for _her_ , and she’s finally right in front of me, making her way through security, looking over her shoulder just about every minute, like I might disappear if she doesn’t keep an eye on me.

But I’m not going anywhere. I don’t think I could walk away from her even if I wanted to. I grab my suitcase at the end of security and am quickly being pulled along, in the direction of our terminal.

“Lottie, hurry up! We’ve got to get to our gate!” 

“The flight’s not for, like, two hours!”

She slows at that, letting me join her side, our hands still linked, and her head turning to meet my gaze. 

She smiles her bright smile before her eyes travel past my face, “Oh my god!” she yells out, and she’s suddenly pulling me along with her again, towards a gift shop that was behind me. 

She stops in front of a display of notebooks, picking up one with a pastel floral pattern, “I’ve been looking for a proper journal!” her eyes flick up to my face and I see the brightness in the eyes that I’ve become so fond of.

Without even considering our location, I hook an arm around her waist and pull her to me, kissing her delicately but passionately. _I’ve got three years of kisses to make up for, and who knows how much time?_

When she pulls away her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are sparkling, and she’s slightly breathless, “What was that for?” she asks, looking genuinely confused.

“I dunno. Just wanted to kiss you, I guess,” I murmur, suddenly embarrassed at the display.

She kisses my cheek before pulling away, moving to purchase the little journal. I follow after her, pulling my suitcase behind me.

After she’s finished at the counter, she starts back into the airport, linking our hands once again.

We reach our terminal after a few quiet minutes of walking, sharing looks and sly smiles, bumping our shoulders into the other’s from time to time.

We settle into two seats, waiting to board, when she pulls out her little black backpack with silver stars and moons embroidered across it. I can tell it’s her handiwork, because of the little green flower on the strap, her signature.

She slides her new journal into the front pocket, zipping it shut and pulling the bag into her lap, holding it tight as she leans back into her seat. 

I put my elbow on the armrest between us, placing my chin on my fist and turning to face her, “How come you’ve been looking for a journal?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve just wanted to start keeping track of things. Chelsea said it’s helped her organize her thoughts and stuff. And, uh, based on recent events I figured it might help, you know?”

I smile softly, “I definitely know. I did it as a teenager. It definitely helps when you need it.”

She beams at me, kissing me on the cheek again, before laying her head on my shoulder, wiggling in her seat as she settles. “So, did you need it?” she softly asks me.

“Need what?”

“The journal. When you were a teenager.”

I take a moment to think through her words, before considering my answer, “Yeah. I mean, maybe I didn’t _need_ it. But it definitely helped.”

She sits up, turning her body to face mine, pulling her legs into the seat and leaning towards me, her arms still wrapped tightly around her backpack, “How come? What happened?”

I shrug, not sure how to really describe it, “I was just kind of alone for a while. I didn’t have many friends, since I never used to get on with other girls, and guys weren’t much better. They’d always either try and mess with me or date me, which was just creepy,” I frown at the uncomfortable memories.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the space between us, her head dipped.

I let out a small laugh, “Why? You weren’t creeping on me in school, were you?” I dramatically gasp, “Or _were_ you? Was it you in the parking lot that one time?” I turn on her, feigning an accusatory stance.

She laughs, “Aw, I wish. I’d have loved to see little Lottie.”

“Hey! I wasn’t little then!”

She giggles before beaming at me, “Sure, sure,” she says as sarcastically as she can with the massive grin.

My heart flutters at the sight of her tired but bright eyes, her weary but glowing smile. 

She’s had a long and _very_ eventful day, and I can tell it’s worn on her. 

I want nothing more than to turn back time, to change the order of events that have led us here, sitting in a Brighton airport in the early hours of the morning in our pyjamas, her _husband_ asleep in a hotel forty minutes away.

I want nothing more than to take away the exhaustion from her face, and the constant expectation that it will slip away from me.

She adjusts in her seat, placing her feet and backpack on the floor and searching through her suitcase before pulling out her laptop.

She starts searching forms she needs to fill out before we land, asking me questions as she goes.

She’s reading through possible questions she may be asked at customs and immigration when she turns to me, her eyes sad. “So, I’m probably going to have to come back here, right?”

I let out a chuckle, “Yeah, I think you might have some business to take care of. Even if it’s just packing your flat up.” 

I tense after I realise what I’ve said. This is the first time either of us has been so direct about it, and I’m terrified I’ll scare her off. Because I want this to last. 

I so desperately want this to last. 

_But why would it? Why am I worth throwing everything away? Worth a divorce and moving continents?_

I’ve never been more relieved that someone can’t read my mind, because she just nods before turning back to her laptop. 

After a second she turns to me again, “So how long do I stay? With you, I mean.”

“Oh, uh… I don’t know. How long do you want to stay?”

She just shrugs, “It’s too short no matter what,” she purses her lips as she thinks for a moment, while my head starts to spin at how matter-of-factly she says this. 

“How about… two weeks? Then I can come back and sort things out for, like, a week or so. I’ll try and find a job until then,” she sounds resolute, determined to make it work.

She turns back to her laptop, sorting through emails now, and I do the same on my phone, trying to work out new details and considering the next few days. 

I start work next Monday, and move into my new flat this Thursday. I’ve already set for furniture to be delivered on Thursday. I was starting to dread doing everything on my own while preparing for work, but now I guess I don’t have to. _Hopefully._

I didn’t want to stay past the wedding, so I booked a hotel for a few days and the first direct flight out I found, even though it was at four in the morning. Because… because of her.

_As stupid as it sounds._

I glance at her every few moments, expecting her to be staring back at me, to be telling me this is a mistake, to be grabbing her bags and leaving.

But she doesn’t. _Not yet, at least._

We stay like this until we’re allowed to board, her staring at her screen and me waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She slips her phone into her little backpack, slinging it over her shoulder and taking hold of her suitcase, watching me expectantly as I stare back at her.

I nearly trip over myself when I realise she's waiting for me, trying to grab my bag before she changes her mind.

As we board the plane she slips her hand into mine and leads me to the seats I booked just a few hours ago.

We slide into them after stowing our bags. I take the window seat and she takes the middle, squeezing against me to avoid the random man sitting down on her other side.

We settle, and I pull out a book I brought to pass the time while she rests her head against my shoulder, casually gazing at the pages, her eyes fluttering like she’s fighting to keep them open.

When I reach the end of the chapter I glance at her again, finding her eyes shut.

I press a gentle kiss to the top of her head and she murmurs, shifting herself to press her head lightly against my neck, her eyes staying shut and her lashes tickling my shoulder.

I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my lips at her sleepy mannerisms.

We stay like that for a long time, as she occasionally shifts and murmurs in her sleep, a smile splitting my face at every movement.

After I don’t know how many hours, I feel her lashes slipping open, and she lifts her head, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before pausing. 

“What time is it?” she mutters, as she reaches for her phone.

“We’re getting close to the East Coast. It’s about six in this time zone, I think.” 

She nods sleepily as she searches on her phone for something.

“What time do we get in?” she asks softly, turning to face me as she leans back in her seat, folding her arms into herself with her phone in one hand while she crosses her legs.

I turn myself towards her too, my face just a few inches from hers. “Six in the morning, pacific time. And about five in the afternoon in the UK.”

Her face scrunches at that, and she starts shifting in her seat like she’s uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” I can’t keep the worry out of my voice once her eyes start staring at nothing, like she’s deep in a troubling thought. 

_And I hope it’s not the one I’ve been dreading._

“He’s up,” is all she says, and I don’t have to guess who she’s talking about.

“Oh.” It’s all I can manage.

He’s probably freaking out, and he can’t even call or text her right now, and she can’t even explain things or take everything back. She’s stuck here with me, and he probably doesn’t even know.

“Did you… did you tell him anything?”

She pauses, still staring at nothing in particular, “I left a note. I just said I’d explain. I - I didn’t know how, but I didn’t want to just disappear, I guess.”

I nod, unsure of what to say to fix this for her. Even for him.

She adjusts herself so she can use her phone, and starts typing like in the airport, taking longer pauses now, her brow furrowing again and again.

I want to ask what she’s doing without service or Wi-Fi, but I don’t want to push it, especially since she just woke up.

Instead, I pull out some earbuds and open my ‘Favorites’ playlist, pressing play and laying back in my seat, closing my eyes as I try to tune out the sounds of the plane.

I listen to the playlist twice through, an hour and a half each time, occasionally opening my eyes to look around, taking in her position every time.

She’s constantly changing how she’s sitting, and I know she can’t get comfortable when she’s nervous. 

She eventually gives up, sighing as she slides her phone back into her backpack, pulling out the floral journal instead. 

I move my head closer to her as she starts sketching, small, random doodles at first, but eventually I see what it is, a night sky made of overlapping drawings, with gaps between them as stars, and a shadowed crescent moon in the corner.

She draws a little bat after a cartoon strawberry, finishing off the shadowing of the moon.

“Can I look?” I ask softly, my eyes still trained on the scribbles covering the page as she turns her head a bit to face me.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she hands me the journal and I begin inspecting it, trying to make out as many words or images as I can in the varying shades of ink.

I find a tiny heart with an ‘L’ slanted overtop of it on the bottom of the page and gently run my thumb over it.

I catch the blush quickly engulfing her cheeks out of the corner of my eye, before she whips her head away, electing to rummage through her bag rather than meet my eye.

I can tell there’s a lopsided grin on my face but don’t bother to try and stop it, because I don’t even think I could anymore.

_Not as long as she’s right here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super cheesy, but I don't think there's enough fluff for my ace self, so I thought I'd give it a try!
> 
> I have no idea what that drawing is, but I couldn't get the concept out of my head
> 
> Also, I don't really travel, especially not internationally, so I did my best with the details!


	2. No Going Back

We’ve spent the rest of the flight trading quiet conversation and trying to pass the time through drawing, reading, and music.

We eventually land in LA and begin weaving through the airport, moving through customs and immigration together.

I have to go through a lengthier process since I’m here for work, with more questions about my employer, place of residence, and plans for staying in LA, but she still waits patiently for me.

When she’s asked her first actual question I barely manage to hold in a laugh, “What are you here for? Business or pleasure?” _I hope it’s pleasure._

She catches my expression and I can see the wheels turning in her mind before it clicks, her face turning bright red in a split second, “Uh - uh, pleasure, I guess.”

She’s then asked by the officer how long she’s staying, and I can tell she’s trying to answer as confidently as she can, still recovering from her embarrassment, “For now, two weeks. I’m leaving on the eleventh.”

“You have a flight booked?”

“Not yet.”

“I’d get one.”

“Will do.”

She’s asked a few more questions, like who she’s staying with, and she just points at me in response.

I blush slightly, the abruptness and scrutiny from the officer startling me, and I can see her smiling slyly at her revenge.

Evidently, we’re good enough for the US, and we’re directed through to the rest of the airport. 

I pick up a suitcase from baggage claim before calling an Uber to get to the hotel across the city.

We stand together outside, her arms swinging the bag she's carrying as she watches the dozens of people flitting through the airport. 

I manage to find our Uber and, after some light prodding, pull her along to the car.

We place our bags in the trunk before sliding into the backseat, sharing a couple greetings with our nice driver, before she starts staring out the window, watching people, cars, and buildings pass by.

Her eyes are bright at the new environment, regardless of the early morning and turbulent weekend.

The entirety of the ride is spent sitting in silence, her eyes rarely leaving the window as her hands hold one of mine, her fingers tracing across my palm absentmindedly.

We eventually pull into the hotel parking lot, and, after thanking the driver, slide out and around to the trunk, hauling our bags into the hotel's vast lobby.

She takes one of my bags as I check in, receiving the key cards and slipping them into my hoodie pocket distractedly as I lead her further into the lobby.

We step into the lift and I can’t help thinking about what happened last time we found ourselves in a similar circumstance, only eighteen hours before.

She must be thinking the same, because she smiles at me before rolling onto her toes to kiss my cheek, resting her head on my shoulder once more as we wait for our floor.

It stops a moment later, causing her to pull away - very much to my disappointment - and tugs her suitcase behind her, her embroidered bag hitting her back as she bounces out of the elevator.

A grin splits my lips as I follow after her, letting her lead the way to our room that was never intended to be anyone but mine’s.

She pauses at the door waiting for me to catch up, expectant eyes observing my face and the slight grin still plastered across it, “Keycard, please,” she says with a massively cheesy smile.

“Aw, I thought I got to do the dramatic opening,” I pout at her.

She pauses, mirroring my pout, but in an instant abandons the charade, pinching my cheek smugly, “Well how could I say no to that face?”

I pull back with a wince and rub my cheek before smirking at her, “I’m guessing you can’t.” I pull the cards from my pocket, knowing full well I'm not alone in my thoughts.

She just glares at me with a frown on her lips before I swing the door open, “Welcome to my humble abode, fair lady,” I dip my head, my hand extended before me in a dramatic flourish.

She laughs before strutting into the room, her head turned away from me, but I still catch a quiet “Ours.”

My heart nearly leaps from my chest, and I take a second to gather myself before following her inside.

_Even unintentionally she turns me inside out._

She flops onto the bed, wiggling as she tries it out, her bags abandoned across the room. 

I follow her example, dropping my suitcase from the plane next to her assortment of bags, shrugging out of the straps around my shoulders and letting my carry-on fall to the floor.

She sits up abruptly, “You have more than just the two bags, right?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know. Just seemed like not enough stuff for you. And I don’t really have any experience with moving quite like this.”

“Like this?” I ask before it hits me a second later. 

_She’s from North Ireland._

She nods energetically, like the most sleep she hasn’t received in two days is just a few hours on a plane, “Yeah. So, like, a lot of my stuff is still in Belfast, since I visit a lot. And I’ve never bought furniture or anything, since I moved in with a friend in Bristol. And I just posted most things I needed from home, since I moved directly,” she finishes her quick sentences, still bubbling with energy somehow.

I walk over to the bed, dropping onto it, my side connecting and bouncing momentarily, “How are you not tired? You fell asleep on the plane.”

Her voice comes out dead serious, and I can't help imagining the way her expression matches, “Lottie. We’re in LA.”

I nod uneasily, perplexed at what she means, “And?”

She throws her arms in the air, hopping off the bed as she does, turning around to face me with a vexed expression, “Lottie! We’re in a different _hemisphere!_ And I’ve got limited time and a lot to worry about very soon. I need to make the most of it!” her arms fall to her side, her head tilted and face distraught.

I can’t help the pain in my chest at her words, like she’s not been planning to move here all day. 

I ignore it, burying the words and questions I want to throw out into the space between us, opting for, “Well _I_ need to sleep!” and crawling up the bed to drop my face in a pillow.

She whines and I can tell she’s frustrated.

I start to regret what I said, wanting to avoid ever being the one to upset her, to risk her realising what a mistake this is, but a moment later I hear her shutting the curtains.

She sits on the edge of the bed behind me, my back to her at an odd angle, “Your shoes are still on.”

I just groan in response, pressing my face harder into the pillow.

I feel her pulling at the sneakers I threw on at 12:30 in the morning to pace around the Bristol hotel that held her wedding, in an attempt to pass the time or deal with my feelings or - I don’t even know what it was for. 

_But it was the best decision I’ve ever made._

She stands up, the mattress filling the hollow it had created for her previously, my shoes having disappeared from my feet. 

I hear her rummaging around our bags and curl in on myself, my mind aching from being awake for over two days, when peaceful sleep seemed like an impossible feat.

I’m starting to drift off as she sits back on the bed, on the opposite corner from where I’m curled up and begins to type, the clacking of the keys lulling me to sleep.

I’m startled awake by a slam, my eyes flying open to see her laptop thrown to the side and her eyes staring angrily at the space in front of her, with her head resting in her hands, fingers woven in her hair.

“Are you okay? What happened?” I manage to get out in my sleepy haze.

Her eyes snap up at my voice, “Oh my god, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry!” her hands drop to the bed, in front of her on each side, fingers clutching the duvet as she leans forward, eyes wide.

“Did you slam your computer shut?”

Her eyes glance at the abandoned device and her shoulders slump, “Yeah. I’m sorry.” It comes out barely more than a whisper.

“Hey, it’s fine,” I sit up, now closer and at a better angle to observe her and the room. I catch a look at the digital clock across the room. It’s only ten in the morning. I fell asleep for an hour, at most.

I turn back to her, “What happened?”

She sighs, “He’s been trying to call me," she mumbles, and I can tell she's embarrassed to be talking about.

But a moment later her voice rises once more, "But I still don’t know what to say! I’ve been trying to write it out in an email or a text, but I still can’t find a nice way to say, ‘Hey, we should get divorced because I’ve kinda run away with the girl that got you dumped off the show that changed our lives forever!’” she says it fast, but the frustration and anger is still there as she drops her head onto the bed.

“And then there’s the divorce, and work, and a visa, and my family, and moving, and just -” she breathes out heavily.

I start to reach for her but stop myself just short of her hair. I know she’s hurt and angry because of me.

“And I just feel so guilty! For all of it! Ugh!” she groans before sliding off the bed.

She paces across the room, her hands flying around her as she talks and mutters and worries, trying to make sense of the disastrous mess she’s found herself in. 

_And it’s all my fault._

“God! I never should have done this!” she shouts in irritation. I cringe, hoping it’s not what I’ve been expecting all day.

But of course it is, “This was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made! And I was even thinking it!” she throws her arms down before crossing them over her chest, turned away from me.

“Oh.” I try to swallow the massive lump in my throat. 

_There it is._

_I knew it was too good to be true. I knew it was going to crash and burn the second she realised what she’d done, and I was an idiot for thinking I could ever change that._

_What the hell have I done? To both of us?_

I feel anger swell in myself at that. 

_Her whole life might be over and I’m feeling bad for myself. I’m the fucking worst, no wonder she regrets me._

“Look, I - I’m really sorry - I never should have -” I try to backpedal, to take back everything from the past day, but my voice breaks off before I can. 

She turns to face me, all the frustration and anger from a moment before being replaced with worry as her gaze takes in the tears slowly filling my eyes that I’m too drained to stop. 

“Lottie, what… Are you - Oh my god!” Her eyes go wide as she nearly yelps. 

“No - that's not - I didn’t mean - oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she hurries to the edge of the bed, folding a leg beneath her as she leans close to me and cups my face between her hands, forcing me to face her. 

But I still avoid her eyes, looking at the space between us instead. 

_Why’s she even bothering? What’s the point? It’d be so much easier to just walk out of here. But of course she has to apologize and explain herself and try to fix things and find the right words and do the right thing and be the right kind of person._

_But she just said it. She never should have done this. And now there’s no fixing things this time. No going back. For me or her._


	3. The Right Words

“Lottie, can you please look at me?” her voice is softer and rougher than I think I’ve ever heard it. 

After a deep breath I oblige, meeting her vibrant eyes that are swimming as they take in all of mine. 

The silence between us is deafening as her eyes stare into mine and her thumbs swipe across my cheeks. No tears have spilled over, but she’s wiping like there’s a waterfall.

I can tell she’s trying to find the right words and I’m terrified to hear them.

_Just because I know it’s over doesn’t mean it won’t kill me to hear it._

“I didn’t mean you, hun. I’m so sorry. I should have watched my words. But I’d never mean you,” her face is determined, with earnest eyes boring into mine. 

Her voice becomes softer, “I don’t regret the lift, or the plane, or right now, okay? It’s everything else that’s a disaster,” she exhales, her eyes finally falling past mine. 

I take her hands that have fallen from my cheeks and hold them tightly, willing her to continue.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s been a long day.” 

I want to tell her no. I want to tell her we need to sort this out, that I’d spend however long she needs to figure out the right words.

But I can see the exhaustion in her posture as she sits beside me, in her eyes as she watches me sorrowfully, and in her voice as she mutters another ‘sorry.’

“Don’t be,” I answer firmly. “Just - get some sleep, yeah?” I move off the bed, looking to give her space to stretch out. 

She’s still donning her pyjamas from her wedding night, so I assume she’ll curl up under the duvet and sleep as long as she can while I work out how to spend the day without her.

But I don’t get the chance to even begin considering my options, because she grabs onto my wrist, pulling me back to her gently, “Where are you going?” she asks with that genuine confusion again.

“I was just - do you want me to stay?” I look down at her, my wrist still in her grip as she faces my way on the edge of the bed.

She looks down at her lap, releasing me as she does, “Er - you don’t have to.”

“We’re not very good at this, are we?” I laugh.

“At what?”

I motion between us as I sit beside her, “This. Being real, I guess. Not holding back...” I trail off, uncomfortable at the admission.

“Yeah. Yeah…” She stares into her lap for a moment, the right words presumably alluding her. “So, let’s not hold back, okay?” she looks at me sideways through her lashes.

“Deal,” I stick my hand out, grinning the whole while.

“Deal,” she shakes my hand with a wide smile of her own.

“So what’s first on the ‘no holding back’ list?” I lean back, my hands on either side of me, holding me up.

“Sleep. I woke you up. Sorry,” she throws me another sideways glance.

“It’s okay. But I only will if you do, too,” I tell her, firm in my conviction.

She frowns, but nods anyway.

She moves across the bed, looking to lay straight on the opposite side, facing me when she flops down.

I start by pulling the duvet back, and she starts squirming to get underneath it, before I slip in beside her.

She presses herself against me, resting her head against my chest, her body folding over half of mine.

My heart starts to beat faster, and I’m sure she can feel it too.

_It’s not like we’ve never done this. We shared in the Villa, when Priya stole Rocco._

_We’ve just never done…_ this _, exactly._

Her arms wrap around my waist, her soft hands gripping me gently. I wrap my own around her shoulders and back, feeling her move with each of our breaths.

_But I wish we did_ this _sooner._

She murmurs sleepily as she presses her face against me, soon drifting off.

I stare up at the ceiling, listening to her slow breathing and trying to forget the whirlwind of emotions that has been this weekend. 

_She got married while I was sitting there the whole time, just trying to be happy for her, because she_ so _deserves whatever makes her happy, even if it’s him. Even if it’s someone like Jo or Jakub or Hope._

I shake my head at the thought. 

_I hope it never comes to that._

I think back on that night, with the party I left early just to sit in a hotel room. I waited until Chelsea had stopped texting group chats and posting to her stories before leaving my room. 

I had long abandoned the dress I’d spent far too much time shopping for in the hopes of impressing her, and left my room in the middle of the night in an oversized Melbourne Storm hoodie and shorts.

I’d walked around the building a few times already when I stepped onto the lift, finding the one person I dreaded running into the most.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut if I was ever alone with her again, and I didn’t, spilling my guts at one in the morning with my hair in a haphazard bun in a lift with bewildered eyes staring back at me.

I was drained and moving in a day, with nothing to lose but some dignity. 

It wasn’t until I saw her in the lobby fifteen minutes later, until she stepped onto the plane, until she cupped my cheeks with her small hands that I felt like maybe it wasn’t a mistake to tell her the crazy pipe dream that has rattled around in my head since I stepped out of the Villa, all that time ago.

My eyelids start to feel heavier, fluttering shut at the happy memories of that wild summer.

I shift, searching for the body that had been wrapped around mine. All I find is cool sheets against my skin.

I sit up, alarmed at her absence, expecting to see her bags gone, her having disappeared like she did to him not too long ago.

_Not that I’d really be able to blame her._

Instead, I find everything as it was left before, her shoes placed neatly by her star backpack, her laptop now laying on a tabletop.

I hear her voice nearby, hushed and distant but still desperate, “Please, listen -” She stops, as if she’s been cut off, and my heart starts to pound, panic at her predicament overtaking me.

I glance at the digital clock again. 

8:19.

_AM or PM?_

I try to look out the windows but the curtains are still pulled over them. I see the ajar terrace door and, after slipping out from the sheets, make my way over to it. 

I can see the dark sky dotted with the city’s lights. 

_PM._

She’s pacing on the terrace, occasionally silhouetted in lights from the street, the sky, the nearby buildings.

“Kassam -”

“Seriously, what is going on? Where are you? Why haven’t you been answering me this whole time?” his voice rings through her phone’s speaker, her arm holding her phone away from her face, her preferred position for phone calls since it allows her to fidget and bounce around with her boundless energy.

She’s fidgeting, and I can tell from those weeks in the Villa, from the countless video calls we’ve shared, that it’s not from her restlessness, but rather from the worry and nervousness that must be filling her entire body.

“I’m in LA. I didn’t answer because I didn’t know what to say - and, honestly I still don’t. But,” she takes a deep breath before continuing to throw away a nearly three-year long relationship - a _marriage_ \- because of me, “I think it’s over, Kassam.”

“What are you talking about?” it comes out softer, hurting. “We just - we just got _married._ You can’t just - just try and forget that,” his voice slowly sharpens.

“And I’m not trying to. But I know now how wrong I was. I’m sorry for everything, Kassam, but it’ll be so much better for both of us if we just end it here, okay? I’m sure we can do things quicker if we work together, right?”

“Listen to me,” his voice is firm again, anger slipping back in. “What the hell’s going on with you? Two days ago you were happier than I’ve ever seen you. _I_ was happier than I’ve ever seen myself. What in the world could be so important that it’s worth throwing everything we had away?!”

I hear her murmur her response and it rocks me to my core: “Lottie.”

It’s quiet enough that he misses it as he carries on, but loud enough to turn my brain to mush and make my heart implode. 

I slump against the wall. 

I know she’s said it a million times in a million different ways this weekend, but every time it still hits me like a missile. 

I zone back into the phone conversation just in time to hear her stifle a sob at his words, “Y’know I thought you were actually worth it. I thought you were different. But now I get it. You’re just like every other self-centered, entitled prick that was on that damned show.” 

_How fucking dare he?_

I can tell I’m already red, I’m already furious, I’m already thinking of hexes, but how could I not?

_She’s the sweetest person on this fucking planet. She’d give anything to care for someone, to comfort someone._

_How does he not realise how much this is hurting her to be honest with him? How does he not realise it’s all my fault - that I’m the self-centered, entitled prick that’s wrecked their marriage?_

I move to open the balcony door, because I want to comfort her, to be there for her, like she has for me, countless times over the years, and even more so this weekend.

But I stop at her voice, it’s venom sinking in my veins, and I can’t even imagine how paralyzed he must be, “I get that you're pissed. You have every right to be. But I have no obligation to provide you with an explanation if you aren’t going to listen to it, Kassam,” she nearly spits his name, and I can’t help the pride that wells in me.

_She doesn’t need me, or anybody. She could take on the world alone if she wanted._

“Okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

_No shit._

“Look - I,” he sighs heavily into his phone, the sound ringing across the terrace.

She’s frozen in place, waiting for his words to resume, to defend herself if necessary.

And when they do return, her eyes widen as my heart sinks to my feet, “Come back.”

“What?” it comes out breathily, all she can get out, her lips parted in shock, her eyes staring into the distance.

“Just come back. We can pretend it never happened. No one knows. I’ll forgive you, just - don’t go, okay?”

She shakes her head like she’s clearing it of the million thoughts bound to be bouncing around it.

She finally says, “You know I can’t do that,” and my heart finds its way back into my chest, nestling behind my ribcage as it continues to hammer against it.

“Why not? What are you even doing in LA?” his voice comes through again, his previous anger beginning to reappear.

She’s stopped in front of the balcony railing, her fingers drumming on the metal as she stares out at the skyline.

After a beat she answers, “I’m with Lottie,” it comes out coated in the faux cool confidence she used at recouplings and big events, a tone she seemed to master in the Villa, but forgot once the spotlight moved past us.

“Why? If you needed a break or a friend, did you really have to cross to the other side of the world? Isn’t Chelsea or Belfast enough?” he’s rambling, thinking aloud as he tries to make sense of this new information.

_But oh gods, is he dense._

“She’s why,” she says it so softly I start to wonder if the silence on the other end is him waiting for a response. 

“Fuck,” is all he says. “Really? _Her_?” If he was in front of us right now, I swear she would have pounced on him. 

“Yeah, _her_ , Kassam! What the fuck are you on about, ‘her?!’ Who the fuck else would it be? Who the fuck else was always there, even in the middle of the night, while you were off at some club, too busy to pick up my calls?!” she’s loud enough now that I would have heard her whether I was standing here or not.

She stops for a moment, slowing her breathing that quickened with her anger before telling him one last thing, venom returning to her voice, “It was always her.”

She hangs up on him, clutching her phone tightly, rage still painted across her face.

She throws her phone across the balcony, and it crashes against the wall, clattering to the ground as she bunches her hands into fists at her side, still fuming over Kassam.

A second later she sinks to the floor, her knees pressing into her chest as her hands wrap around her head, her face pressing into her knees.

She looks so small, so vulnerable, so heart-wrenchingly alone on the bare, night-covered balcony.

I take a step forward, my mind stuck like a broken record, those last four words she uttered looping in my brain, probably for eternity.

_Were those the right words?_


	4. Rewrites

I shove the door open and hurry outside, dropping to my knees at her side as her head lifts up to meet me in an awful greeting.

Tears have sprung from her eyes, falling down the length of her face in glittering droplets, city lights illuminating her watery and pained gaze.

I reach for her, wanting to wipe away her troubles but settling for the diamonds falling from her jaw. 

When I swipe at her face she pushes into me without a word, her face pressing into the crook of my neck with my arms wrapping around her small frame, holding her tight as her tears soak the collar of my hoodie and her hands grasp at my front pocket, pulling me closer as she sinks into me. 

I run careful circles along her back, tracing her spine while she shivers against me.

I don’t let go until I hear sniffles, leaning back to see her trying to wipe at her face with her hands. 

I take the cuff of my sleeve and wipe her cheeks, her eyes downcast and her head tipped to the ground, arms wrapping around her knees still pushing into her chest as my arm finds its way around her shoulders. 

She leans into me, curled in on herself, her eyes red and watery before they flutter shut, an occasional tear sliding down her face. 

I always wipe them away before they reach her jaw, my eyes trained on her tormented features as the night deepens. 

Her head drops to my chest, legs pressing against mine as I wrap myself around her, blocking some of the night's chill from reaching her skin.

She eventually falls into a restless sleep in my arms, the tension from before falling from her body as she remains tucked against me. I manage to scoop her up once I’m positive she won’t wake up from the disturbance. 

_She was always the gym rat, but it’s easy to lift someone so much smaller than me._

I carry her into the room, her head securely beneath my chin, and lay her back on the bed. She curls up instantly, and I can’t help but wonder how much sleep she actually got earlier today. 

Rather than sit with her, I cross the room to our bags, pulling out my own laptop and charger. 

I plug it in at the small desk in the room and sit down, pulling up a cheesy travel agency’s email a friend jokingly forwarded to me about places to visit in LA. 

I scroll through, clicking links and perusing obnoxiously designed websites, eventually settling on a classic: Disneyland. I buy tickets for Wednesday, hoping that’s enough time for our jet lag to wear off. 

Then I order a pizza, because the last thing either of us ate was a granola bar when we landed. I make it a large and add some sides, because I’ve seen her demolish a half dozen pancakes in a few minutes.

I change quickly, a long-sleeve and shorts being pulled from my bag first, and drop back down at the desk, braiding my hair to the side.

I pull out my phone and scroll, keeping an eye on her sleeping form as she shifts and turns, only staying still for a few minutes at a time.

I get an alert about the pizza and slip on my shoes, opening the room’s door as quietly and slowly as I can before hurrying down to the lobby.

I find the delivery guy and take the pizza before rushing back to the lift. I lean against the wall, tapping my foot impatiently as the few people up at ten or so at night filter in and out.

When it finally stops on my floor I rush out, walking quickly to our room and unlocking the door sloppily as I pin the box against my hip.

I slowly open and close the door, and as it clicks shut a soft voice calls out, “Lottie?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’d you go?”

I walk further into the room, holding the box out before me with a grin, “To get something to eat.”

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands bunched in the front of her shirt and a leg folded beneath the other. She’s leaning forward, worry still lightly creasing her face.

I drop the box on the little desk and sit down beside her, pulling her hands from her shirt and holding them within my own.

She rests her chin against my shoulder, her chest against the back of my arm, and I can feel her pounding heartbeat pulsing through our skin.

“Are you okay, hun?”

She hums an ‘mmhmm,’ her head tilting to nuzzle against my shoulder and a hand slipping from my grasp to wrap around my arm, her thumb rubbing gently along my skin as she settles.

“You know there’s food, right?”

“What’d you get?”

“Large veggie pizza, garlic bread, salad, and lava cakes.”

She sits up at that, turning to face me, her hands grabbing at my arm, “You got lava cakes?” her eyes are wide, excitement brimming over.

I grin at her, pride welling in my chest at my success in cheering her up, “Yep.”

She jumps off the bed, pulling my arm along, “Why aren’t we eating them, then?”

I laugh as she drags me along to the desk, pulling things from the bag hurriedly and opening each cardboard container until she finds the lava cakes, immediately grabbing one and taking a large bite.

She hums with a lopsided grin on her face, swaying from side to side.

I kiss her forehead as she beams up at me before pulling out paper plates and opening up the pizza box.

I grab two slices for me and drop three onto a plate for her, throwing some garlic bread on top.

She’s still devouring the lava cakes so I shut the box on her, earning an exasperated look.

“Dinner before dessert.”

She frowns, and I know she wants to complain or argue, but she doesn’t, nodding and reaching out for the plate I’m holding for her. 

I let her take it and grab onto my laptop, walking out to the balcony once again, this time under better circumstances.

Her phone’s still laying on the ground, discarded in a corner, but I ignore it for now, sitting down against the wall beside the door, placing my laptop in front of me.

She walks around before slumping down beside me, a puzzled look etched across her face.

Without an explanation I pull up ‘Enchanted,’ a movie she’s been bugging me to watch for months.

She beams when she realises what we’re doing, snuggling up to me as she quickly finishes her plate, getting up for seconds and thirds and fourths before returning with more lava cakes.

I’ve started stealing from her plate so I don’t miss the movie and get told off by her, but she smacks my hand away when I reach for one of the cakes.

I whine and pout at her, but she holds steady, frowning at me as she protectively holds her plate.

I start to stand up to go get my own when she grabs my hand and pulls me back down, placing the plate between us and avoiding my eye as she pouts.

“Aww, you must really care if you’re giving up your lava cakes,” I tease, but she ignores me, laying her head back down on my shoulder as she stares at the screen.

I wrap an arm around her back, pulling her closer as she curls up against me, her head brushing against my neck and hand tracing along my side, legs curling against my outstretched thigh.

We stay wrapped together, listening to the sounds of the metropolis surrounding us as the movie comes to an end, neither of us moving or breaking the moment.

“What’d you think?” she turns her eyes towards me, her voice low in the dark.

I shrug my shoulder, “It was alright. A very you movie,” my lips quirk upwards into a smirk at her annoyed frown.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“Well, let’s see,” I wriggle in my spot to face her better. “It was cheesy, sappy, and a musical with a happily ever after for all the good guys. Right up your alley.”

She frowns and crosses her arms defensively, “Yeah, but it was self-aware and sarcastic and cute,” she begins to argue for the first time this weekend, to my realisation.

_She’ll argue with anyone about anything anytime. I’ve seen her argue about proper smoothie ingredients at six in the morning with Priya._

I lean forward, looking to give her an argument she won’t forget, “Is it really self-aware if it plays into all the tropes it had made fun of?”

Her face has heated and her eyes have that annoyed spark that made her so easy to read in the Villa, “Yeah! It made fun of those tropes before doing them itself! That’s self-aware!” her raised voice makes her feel like a much greater opponent.

“That’s self-aware turned oblivious.”

Her face is bright and scrunched up, her eyes boring into mine in a way that makes my heart flutter even though she’s upset with me, “No!” 

She’s stopped herself, taking a breath before continuing, “Did you at least get it? I didn’t get it until now,” she suddenly looks small again, her voice soft and eyes staring at the balcony floor before us.

“Get what?” I ask, just as softly, as if both her and this instant are made of glass.

“The message, or whatever,” she fidgets in her spot, nervous but not as breakable.

I shake my head, confusion coating my expression, “No. What is it?”

She gives me an exasperated look, as if the explanation is worse than the answer.

Her eyes fall back to the concrete that’s become a canyon between us in my anticipation, “It’s, like -” she sighs, the right words escaping her, “So, like, what’s written isn’t always the right story. I guess…” she fumbles out the words.

I grin at her, “So poetic,” I tease her, redirecting the energy of this moment to something hopefully less intense for her.

She scowls and reaches across the canyon to shove my shoulder, forcing it closed and into nothing but concrete once again.

I take hold of her hand as it begins to retract and interlock our fingers, squeezing her hand to reassure her in a way I’d never be able to properly vocalise. 

The right words have never been something I could find like she can, as much as I’ve tried. At some point I stopped bothering, letting them evade me and conversation lull to a stop.

I run my thumb across her knuckles, suddenly feeling the need to find the right words for her, “Maybe you just rewrote your story. Like, the first draft wasn’t right, so you changed the ending.”

She smiles softly at me, her face lighting up in the dark once again, reminding me of the hundreds of video chats in the middle of the night, when she’d call me because she couldn’t sleep and wanted company.

I’ve always preferred staying up late, but work’s always stopped me from being able to do so, forcing me to relish in the sleep I managed to steal every night.

But when I woke up to a missed call and a few texts asking if I was up and apologising about the late-night notifications, I started to turn my ringer up all the way, and slowly eased into staying up later, her calls becoming a part of my nightly routine.

I’ve not missed a single call or text from her since, even if all I could respond with was a ‘Talk later, okay?’ in the middle of a meeting or event.

I press a kiss to the back of her hand as she stares across the skyline once again, the lights seemingly bewitching her with ease.

She turns to face me, a wide smile along her lips, her eyes lit up brighter than any of the city lights behind her.

She crosses the concrete and drops her head on my lap, our hands still locked together beside her face, her eyes staring up at me with a cheesy smirk, “Hi there.”

I breathe out a laugh before pulling her hand to my lips again, kissing her knuckles before dropping our hands as she squeezes mine, “Hey.”

She smiles up at me before starting to squirm, turning on to her side to watch the skyline again, nudging my laptop out of her line of sight.

I stay still, listening to the incessant noise of LA traffic, watching as headlights make their way up to us, basking the balcony in reds and yellows, and glancing at her face whenever my attention slips.

At some point her eyelids have shut, her grip on my hand relaxing and her breathing slowing.

She doesn’t toss and turn like she did before, her face nuzzling into my exposed thigh as she curls in on herself, the cool night air that makes it past the walls enclosing us skimming across our skin.

I stay like that most of the night, watching her peaceful expression and random Disney movies that show up in my recommendations, in case she wakes up.

_Anything horror would scare her in the dark._

I always keep a hold on her hand, running my thumb along her knuckles as her breathing provides a steady beat for the music of the night.

_This better be the right story. I don’t think I could handle a rewrite without her._


	5. Whoa

The morning light has started to filter through the hotel room window when my alarm begins to ring.

I fumble for my phone, grabbing it off the nightstand beside me and hitting ‘off,’ hoping it hasn’t woken the sleeping form beside me.

She’s a heavy enough sleeper that she only stirs, wrapping around me tighter, humming quietly as she does.

I kiss the top of her head before falling back on the pillows, letting myself enjoy this already perfect morning just a little longer.

When she's stilled once again I slowly detangle myself from her, sliding off the bed and tiptoeing to my suitcase, pulling out black jeans and a strappy lilac tank top and slipping into the bathroom to change and get ready for the day.

I add some jewelry: a choker, rings, and a jade bracelet with little flowers carved within it.

I just put my hair in a ponytail, my now navy tips brushing the straps of my purple top as I finish off some light makeup, my typical dark lipstick abandoned for the day.

Leaving the bathroom, I return to our bags and pull on some black converse before moving to the bed, the body that I pulled myself from now wrapped in a tight ball where I had been, her features fraught.

I sit beside her, placing a knee on the sheets in front of her and begin to nudge her shoulder, whispering a few ‘hey’s and ‘wake up’s as she slowly begins to stir.

Her arm wraps around my knee, pulling my leg further onto the bed, her other arm curling around my leg and face pressing into my thigh.

I wiggle my knee to annoy her, hoping it will force her to get up.

She whines in response, tightening her grip on me as she mutters something into my trousers.

“Hmm?” I hum at her, my fingers brushing her hair back from her face to see her better.

She mumbles against me again, still incomprehensible, so I slide my hand below her chin and tilt her head away from my thigh, “What?”

“Why are you dressed so early?” she whispers, her eyes still squeezed shut and hands still holding me.

I beam at her, even if she can’t see it, “Because… we’re going to Disneyland!” I announce, her eyes flying open at the declaration.

“Huh?” she sleepily questions and fumbles to sit up, leaning on my knee as her legs are pulled beneath her.

“We’re going to Disneyland. So get up,” I pull my leg out from under her, her hands harshly dropping to the sheets as I slide off the bed and turn to face her with my hands on my hips, giving her a stern look.

But she doesn’t notice or care, bright eyes running across my face and clothes before she jumps up, rushing past me to rummage through her suitcase, throwing a pair of jean shorts behind her before digging through my bags.

“Hey!” I walk to her side, watching her sort through and hold up different tops.

I nudge her with my knee and her head falls back, eyes wide and innocent as she clutches a random grey top to her chest, “What?”

I cross my arms, “That’s my stuff.”

She pouts at me, throwing in some puppy dog eyes too, “I didn’t pack much when we left.”

I meet her gaze, barely beating the urge to give in to the look she’s giving me.

“Please?” she begs softly.

My legs buckle beneath me, dropping me onto my knees next to her as my head falls to her shoulder, my gaze to the floor. “Fine,” I sigh.

She takes my hand, weaving our fingers together and planting kisses on the back of it as she searches my bag for something to wear.

After several moments of rummaging, she pulls out a bright green shirt that somehow ended up in my suitcase post-Villa, staring at it intently for a moment, turning it over and checking the tag.

“So _you_ were the one who stole my shirt!”

I’m taken aback by her accusation, “Uh… I guess? I didn’t mean to…” I trail off.

“Have you worn it a lot?”

“To sleep in and stuff. I’m not about to wear a shirt that bright and from a random school’s club,” I lift my head off her shoulder to meet her gaze.

“It's not random anymore. It’s your girlfriend’s!” she beams, kissing me on the cheek as she grabs a black and grey flannel and her shorts, jumping up and marching to the bathroom.

I stare after her for a few minutes, my mind blanking as sounds filter from the bathroom.

_Did she…?_

_She did._

_She said ‘girlfriend.’_

_We’re girlfriends. I’m her girlfriend and she’s mine._

_Whoa._

I stagger to my feet, grabbing my phone and checking the time: 7:34.

I drop down at the desk, staring at the bathroom door, waiting for my _girlfriend_ to finish getting ready for our day at _Disneyland._

__

__

_What the hell has been this week?_

She throws the door open, a wide smile on her face as she struts out, the T-shirt I accidentally stole from her tied at her waist, the flannel’s sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

“So I’m never seeing that shirt again, am I?”

“Not during the day.”

“Just during the day?”

“Just during the day,” she repeats back, nodding as she passes me on the way back over to our bags, pulling out some sneakers and slipping them on.

She grabs her star backpack and slings it over her shoulders before popping up, looking at me expectantly, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet.

I grab my wallet and slide it in my trouser’s pocket, finding an Uber as we leave the room, putting my phone away as we enter the lift.

She’s still beaming and bouncing on her toes, hands clasped behind her back as she sways in her spot, while I find myself grinning at her antics, her familiar cheeriness a comfortable presence.

We reach the lobby and step out of the lift, her hand finding its way into mine before starting to swing between us as we make our way out of the hotel.

I pull out my phone with my free hand to figure out what car I’m looking for, spotting our Uber a minute later and pulling her along.

We spend the ride watching the city pass by once again, sharing a few words this time, the conversation drifting from today to moving day tomorrow to the random things we see on the street.

When we find ourselves at the park’s drop-off we slip out, sharing some polite goodbyes with the driver that got on with my _girlfriend_ before walking to the park’s entrance.

I wait in the security and check-in lines with her, eventually stepping into the actual park and immediately getting pulled along to a shop.

She starts sorting through the mouse ears at the front, grabbing two pairs of Minnie ears, one covered in sequins but still black and red, and one with a rainbow bow.

She leaves me in the dust, hurrying to the counter and purchasing them before I can catch up with her, racing back back to me a moment later and placing the rainbow ears on my head before I can protest, the sparkly ones already on her own.

“Why do I get the colourful ones?” I frown, staring down at her with my arms crossed over my chest.

She smiles sweetly in response, “Because they look cute on you,” she kisses my cheek and takes hold of one of my arms, pulling me further into the park and stopping me from arguing more, not that I'm even sure I would have.

She drags me around the park all morning, pulling me into line after line, from Space Mountain to Haunted Mansion to the Matterhorn.

I eventually succeed in slowing her incessant movement, leading her into a restaurant and ordering some more pizza and treats, which seems to be all we’ve eaten since we landed.

We find an outdoor table, sitting down and splitting the food unevenly.

She flies through half the pizza, moving to a pretzel while I’m finishing my second slice.

“How do you eat so much and so fast?”

She just shrugs, covering her mouth as she finishes her bite, “I’ve just always eaten like this. My brother and sister do it, too.”

“Oh god, that’s so much food!”

She laughs, “Yep! That’s why I know how to cook. Mum made me learn for when she was busy, so she wouldn’t spend a ton on ordering take-out.”

I inspect her for a moment, watching her eyes rove excitedly around the park, her energy still through the roof as she takes another bite, “Do you like cooking?”

She nods enthusiastically, “Mmhmm!” she hums. “I love everything about it. From the space to the measuring and especially the eating!” she giggles.

Her eyes light up an instant later, “What’s the flat’s kitchen like? How much space does it have? Did you have to order appliances? Ooh! Can I pick out all the kitchen ware?!” she’s bouncing in her seat, her pretzel immediately forgotten as she grins at me, her eyes sparkling in the California sun.

“Yeah, you can pick everything out," I shrug, "I don’t know much about cooking. And the kitchen’s… normal?" I offer. 

"And there’s already, like, an oven and a fridge, ‘cause it’s the landlord’s stuff, I guess. Which means we can’t break it,” I give her a serious look, my lack of conviction quickly gone.

She bats her eyelashes innocently, “What could you possibly be alluding to?”

I scowl at her, “I’m alluding to your habit of wrecking kitchen appliances. I’ve seen it in the Villa.”

“I was only an accomplice!” she counters. “Rocco messed up the blender with his frozen fruits and Bobby’s the one who forgot the knife in the microwave!” she challenges, her eyes alight with her annoyance.

“Yeah, but you put the fruit in the freezer and then told Rocco to make smoothies! And Bobby got distracted by the mess you made of icing!”

She frowns at me, “Those smoothies and cupcakes were both meant for you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining,” she leans back, sipping the lemonade she’s been nursing.

“I am not complaining! I’m just warning you off from blowing up the kitchen!”

“If you want more sweets than that’s a risk you're going to have to take.”

I squint at her, scrutinising her determined expression for a long moment, finding unwavering resolve, before giving up and letting out a sigh, “Fine. Just try not to lose the deposit.”

She beams, “Will do.” She starts back in on her pretzel, smiling all the while.

We people watch while finishing our food, our hands finding one another and locking beneath the table.

Once we're finished she scoots closer and drops her head to my shoulder, her mouse ears hitting me in the face, the sequins scratching my cheek, “Hey!” I lean away as she pulls them off.

“Sorry! I forgot!” She cups my chin and tilts my head a bit, inspecting my cheek where the sequins scraped my skin.

I doubt it's anything more than some red marks, but I let her brush her fingers across my face anyway at the sight of her concerned expression.

She eventually seems to decide that it’s not too bad, her hand dropping from my face and settling on my thigh, her eyes staying trained on my face.

I cover her hand with my own, squeezing gently as I try to change the subject, “So what’s next? More rides?” I cringe at the thought of dropping metres and metres on a full stomach.

“Yeah, but the slow ones this time. I’m not having you throw up today.”

“Oh thank the gods,” I whisper, earning a laugh from her as she presses into my shoulder for a moment more, jumping up when she gets distracted a second later.

“The castle’s cleared up a bit!” she grins down at me, hands tugging me to my feet.

I follow her lead, letting her guide me through the crowded park after throwing our trash in the bin.

She stops in front of the iconic castle, turning to beam at me for a second, her hand slipping behind me and into my back pocket.

I give her a puzzled expression before she pulls my phone out, unlocking it and opening the camera.

She passes my phone back to me, “You have longer arms.”

I frown slightly at her, “Are we really taking the same picture everyone always takes?”

She looks at me sternly, “Everyone takes it because it’s a good picture. And it’s not the same, it’s me and you this time.”

I meet her gaze, turning my phone over in my hand before she starts pouting, “Please? It’ll be so cute, I promise.”

I purse my lips for a moment before giving in to her once again, holding my phone up, the Cinderella castle behind me as she squeals, shuffling closer.

She rises on her toes and presses her lips to my cheek, as I smile into the camera, capturing one of the cheesiest pictures I can imagine.

When I drop my arm she falls back on her heels, grabbing at my phone and pulling up the pictures, grinning as she flicks through the few I took and glancing up at me a few times.

I peek over her shoulder as she experiments with saturation and brightness for a few moments, “Are they okay?”

She nods emphatically, “You’re perfect, babe. I’ll post it later, okay?”

I dazedly respond, “Yeah. Alright.”

 _She said I’m perfect._ Me. 

_Not the pictures. Not us. Not her._ Me. 

_Whoa._


	6. Why?

She turns to face me, eyes roving across my features inquisitively before falling past me. Her arm loops in mine, pulling me along to Main Street without a word.

She stops at a sweet shop, roaming around and inspecting the candies, undivided attention on the bright colours surrounding us as her fingers unconsciously circle along my skin. Bright eyes inspect every sweet, hypnotised by the sugary mountains covering the displays.

Eventually landing on a cupcake, red velvet with black icing, she beams up at me cheekily, “Do you want one?” I hum in thought, considering how destructive a sugar rush would be. “I can add a dolphin. If it helps,” she adds.

My head quirks to the side, but she doesn’t seem intent on explaining. “I’ll let the dolphin slide if I can edit the picture you took,” I bargain with a smirk.

Lips purse and brows furrow as she searches every millimetre of my green eyes, “You can’t make it too scary.”

“What counts as too scary?”

“No fangs. Or blood. Or organs. Or zombies. Nothing icky,” she scowls. I frown, considering an image of myself with fangs dripping with blood, trailing down my chin as a zombie kisses my cheek, brain melting from her decaying head. “Lottie,” she warns.

“Okay, fine. Deal. Nothing scary,” I concede, wary of upsetting the balance between us.

She beams wide, quickly turning back to the till and grabbing two cupcakes in a to-go box. She slips her hand in mine, swinging it between us as she starts towards the park’s exit without a word.

We drop in an Uber, my phone returning to my hand quickly. I pull up a photo, adding a black-and-white filter and rounding the edges to mimic an old movie scene. 

I’m attempting to decide between calling it noir or gothic when a chin lands on my shoulder, peering over to inspect the finished product. She nods approvingly and I relax in my seat, her chin remaining on my shoulder as she hums quietly.

\---

“Aw, look at Gary and Emily!” she thrusts my phone that she stole a few minutes ago in my face.

I lean back, blinking as the image comes into view. It’s Gary’s instagram, his latest post being him and Emily on vacation in Greece, white buildings and blue water in the background.

“They’re so cute! I’m so happy they managed to work things out after the Villa!” she’s alight with excitement for them.

“Yeah, they’re good together,” I nod, fumbling my laptop to the side as I adjust, abandoning my overflowing inbox for the time being.

She beams at me before her face drops into one of thought, “When did they start dating?”

I shrug, “They traded numbers at the finale party, but I don’t know when they actually made it official.”

“Are you and Gary on good terms? I know you tried so hard to make it work in the Villa and then… I kind of wrecked that, huh?” she frowns at her lap.

I laugh, “Yeah, we’re good. And I don’t think it would have lasted. You and Emily just sped the process up.” She smiles wide, kissing me on the cheek before settling back down in her spot. “What about everyone you coupled up with? Are you on good terms with any of them?”

She shrugs, “I mean, I guess so. Rocco’s still not that pleased that I ‘let you attack him’ or whatever,” she scowls to the space before us. 

I wince, “Sorry. I went kind of hard with girl code back then.”

She shakes her head, “He was the one who played the girls. I’m proud of how far he’s come, but at the time, he messed up. Big time. And you just called him out.”

“I was really harsh. Everyone but you thought so.”

She frowns. “Fine. But I still think it was sweet how you stood up for me,” she beams at me.

I don’t have the heart to tell her the only reason I reacted the way I did was to get someone in my corner, when the tables inevitably turned on me. “Okay, what about Henrik? You guys seemed okay,” I change the subject, not so subtly.

“Yep! Though, I never really held anything against Henrik, he’s so sweet that we’ve never had a problem outside of the Blake thing. And she left him anyway. And then… Oh right! I was with Elijah, right? Yeah, we’re cool since we were never really a thing,” she rattles on. “I saved him for Chels, so obviously I wasn’t about to, like, steal her guy.”

I nod along, “Then there was Bobby…” I prompt

Her face twists, “It’s hard to be upset with Bobby, though the whole thing was my fault. I wasn’t into him like that but then he thought we were more than friends and… that was a disaster,” she sighs. “Only person I have issues with is Lucas, since he, y’know. Kind of used me to get to the finale… That was dumb of me, wasn’t it?” she ponders.

“No way. You did nothing wrong. You were trying to make it work. Not your fault he ended up bailing.”

She turns her head away, whispering, “It kind of is, though,” to herself.

“Hey,” I cup her jaw, forcing her eyes on me, “Even if it was - and it’s not, by the way - it’s best not to dwell, right? To stop bothering with the past?” I attempt to ignore the nagging in the back of my mind, calling me a hypocrite that’s been looking over her shoulder all week.

She mutters something under her breath, her moving lips the only indication that any sounds were uttered.

“What was that?”

Her eyes fly up, “Nothing,” she says, a little too quickly.

“Okay…”

She smiles, sweet as the cupcakes that are still on the desk, before leaning over to kiss my cheek, her breath leaving goosebumps on my skin. “Okay. The past doesn’t matter. Eyes on the prize,” she grins.

“Exactly.” My lips peck the tip of her nose, earning a giggle. I flop to my back on the bed as she giggles more, following me and staring up at the ceiling.

Small fingers gently grasp at my wrist flung above my head, pulling it into her line of sight. Her fingers follow the ink on my forearm, tracing shapes and following patterns intently, with more focus than she typically musters. Her touch pauses on my skin, “When’d you get the sunflower?” she whispers.

I look to her hand, following her pale purple fingernail and finding an image of a plain sunflower on the inside of my wrist. “A year and a half ago? I think it was a bit before that, maybe,” my lips twist as I count the months.

“It’s pretty,” she comments, eyes still trained on the simple outline.

I grin over at her, “Thanks.”

“Why’d you get it?”

I shrug, “I dunno. ‘Cause I wanted it,” the teasing lilt in my voice annoys her, a frown grazing her features.

“Well yeah, but is there, like, a meaning or something?” she inquires.

I shift awkwardly, suddenly painfully aware of her fingers gripping me, her side brushing my own, and her heavy gaze. She glances over, dropping her hands and my arm to her chest as she watches me. My face turns to the ceiling to avoid her eye, “Priya said you like sunflowers. She might have been kidding, though. She said it funny.”

Her fingers press hard into my skin as she pops upright abruptly. She slowly pulls my wrist from her chest, almost afraid to look. Her eyes stare at the flower when her voice comes out, a rough whisper, “You got it for me?”

I shrug as best I can from my odd positioning, “Um, yeah? Is it bad?”

“No!” she shouts immediately. “I mean, like, I just… why?”

“I like to commemorate big events or adventures. The Villa’s probably the biggest one I’ve been on, so it made sense to get one.”

“I thought that was what the one on your hip was for.”

“I can have two Villa tats,” I tease.

“This isn’t Villa, though,” her voice is low again, nail gently ghosting along my veins. “This is just me.”

I laugh nervously, “Well, you were in the Villa, weren’t you?”

She finally turns to meet my gaze, squeezing my arm as she does. She doesn’t utter a word, her imploring gaze hitching my breath in my throat. Her hand slides up my arm, skating along my shoulder and chest as she lowers back down beside me.

Her lips brush my shoulder delicately as her legs tangle with my own, her head settling atop my heart that’s pounding wildly. Her fingers brush along my exposed skin, circling idly and tracing vines and leaves. Our breathing mixes together, filling the empty space in the room.

She trails warm kisses along my shoulder, neck, ear, stopping at my lips. It’s soft and gentle as her hands move to my sides, brushing the hem of my top. My arms snake around her shoulders as she straddles my hips, falling into the kisses with ease.

\---

We don’t separate until the sky’s dark, her eyes shutting at some point but fingers never stilling along my arms or sides. I must drift off at some point, blinking awake as the shower pounds in the washroom.

I sit up quickly, finding an empty room and a closed washroom door. My fists rub at my eyes, pushing the slight edge of sleep from them forcefully. My laptop’s still sitting on the other side of the bed and I reach for it, flipping it open and forcing myself to continue through my emails.

The shower stops, clatters and footsteps echoing from behind the closed door. A long while later she steps out of the bathroom and throws her green T-shirt at me.

“What the hell?” I call in surprise, catching it before it hits the floor. I look at her, “What was that for?”

“I’m giving it back,” she answers matter-of-factly.

I watch her inquisitively, “I can see that. Why, though? It’s yours.”

“Just during the day,” she answers cryptically again.

“Okay… And why’s that?” 

She turns to face me, rising from the bags across the room, her expression exasperated, “Because…” she huffs, forcing her head down.

I stand from my perched position on the bed, walking closer before dropping my hands on her shoulders, “Because…” I prompt.

“Because,” she huffs again, her shoulders tense as she stares at the floor. In an instant she’s switched, drawing on that fabricated confidence, her head thrown up but her cheeks still flushed, with her chest puffed out, “Because it smells like your perfume and I want it to stay that way.”

That goofy grin from a few days ago slips over my lips again, my head emptying to nothing but pure bliss at her admission while a slight chuckle escapes my throat. I’m still floating on clouds, kilometres from this hotel room, when her head slumps into my chest, “Lottie,” she whines. “Can you not laugh at me to my face?”

I wrap my arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before nuzzling against her hair, “That’s really cute, you know.”

“It is? It’s not super creepy and weird?”

“Well, maybe a little.”

She starts to pull away and I tighten my grip on her, “But it’s also really sweet and lovely.” She falls back against my chest, letting me sway the two of us from side to side and bask in her presence for as long as I can.

When I step back she looks up at me from beneath her lashes, her cheeks still tinged with colour. I rub her upper arms before turning away, grabbing clothes and moving to the washroom, cycling through my shower routine.

The water beats down on my scalp, soaking my hair and pulling some color from it as shampoo washes down my back, trails along my legs, and pools at the drain. I follow the motions in a haze, mind buzzing as I dissect the past week or so. The plane, the phone call, the countless movies, and the amusement rides all mingling into a blur of joy and nerves, enough to make me sick two days ago.

I pull a fluffy towel around myself and stop at the mirror, wiping away the foggy remnants of the hot shower from my reflection, peering at my soaked and curled hair that’s splayed along my shoulders, the small marks dotting my chest, and the piercing she got distracted by and fiddled with.

But one thought bounces around my head, as much as I try to shut it up, to ignore it, to pretend it doesn’t bother me.

_Why me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of these two! I have too much sappy fluff to end it here. There will likely be 12 more chapters over 2 more parts. Chapter 1 of the second part, Homebound, will be released on October 21.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope it was worth it lol


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